


horsesintheback.pptx

by Japery



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Chirping as Flirting, Established Relationship, Horses, Insults as a Love Language, Jealousy, M/M, Multimedia, emotional idiocy, powerpoints
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2019-06-12
Packaged: 2020-05-01 19:49:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19184458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Japery/pseuds/Japery
Summary: He should, by rights, have hundreds of horses named after him. By rights. By fuckingrights.Tyson takes another swig from the bottle, and scrambles for his laptop.He needs to make a Powerpoint.





	horsesintheback.pptx

**Author's Note:**

> i don't claim to know and mean no harm to the people represented in this fic, if you found this by googling yourself or anyone you know, i'd advise you to click right on out of here.
> 
> this started as a joke about how tyson hates that ej named a horse after gabe before him and spiraled from there
> 
> thanks to [annie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dalmatienne/pseuds/dalmatienne) and [erica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alaspooryorick/pseuds/alaspooryorick), and for beta-ing and helping with the powerpoint, and lil nas x and microsoft office for the title.

EJ suddenly pops his head up from between Tyson’s legs, eyes hard chips of flint smoldering to start a fire. “Hey, can I ask you a question?” EJ asks, hand relaxing over Tyson’s thigh, thumb resting pressure over Tyson’s hole where EJ’s tongue used to be.

Tyson pushes himself up by his hands gingerly, teeth gritted. “Is it gonna be: can I keep eating you out after this rude interruption, Tyson? Or even better, is it: Can I stick my stupidly huge dick in you now, Tyson?” 

EJ swirls his thumb over Tyson’s hole, and snorts. “You know Bissonnette, right?” 

Tyson rolls his eyes, but nods. Paul Bissonnette just had his way of worming his way into every one of Tyson’s relationships. He flies to California in the middle of the summer specifically to get fucked, and of course they’re talking about Biz. “What, does Biz owe you money?” 

“Can you ask him if he’d be cool if I named a horse after him?”

Tyson stares at EJ, who smiles in a way that would be innocent if he wasn’t missing so many teeth, and loops all the way back around to menacing instead. It’s a little hot, to be honest, though it doesn’t help that EJ’s absentmindedly petting Tyson’s hole with his fingers without pushing in. “You want to name a horse Paul Bissonnette?” Tyson asks, breath catching a little. 

EJ shakes his head, smile getting a little wolfish. “I want to name him Biz Nasty.” 

EJ’s palm slips a little, and his finger starts pressing into his hole, and Tyson groans, bearing down his hips against it. “You’re asking me this now?” Tyson groans, nails digging into the bedspread. 

“When else would I ask?” EJ says, frowning, as he crooks his finger inside of Tyson and starts to ease another in. Tyson, not for the first time, thinks about murdering him. Nate would help hide the body, he thinks. He’d fly down from Nova Scotia to help hide the body.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?!” Tyson snipes at him, head mixed up and heady as EJ starts to take him apart with his fingers, pumping into him with the practiced ease of having done it a hundred times before. 

EJ looks at him like he’s an idiot, white-hot knuckle deep and pressing up against his prostate. “I don’t have his number.” 

Tyson snarls at him. 

Nate would definitely help him hide the body. 

Later, while they’re cuddling, Tyson navigating around the sharp angles of EJ’s elbows to press flush up against his hips, Tyson asks him: “Hey, why don’t you name a horse after me?” 

EJ hooks an arm over his shoulder to pull him in closer. “Because I don’t like you.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss against the skin of his neck. 

“Hate you too, asshole.” Tyson answers contentedly, and settles into the warmth of EJ’s arms. 

//

Tyson forgets about it until a season or so later. He’s been regularly hooking up with EJ for years now, ever since Tyson was a rookie pretending that riding EJ’s dick every night would be better for his back than sleeping on EJ’s couch for a week and it just worked out too easily to stop, or even to bother trying to fuck other people. They’ve been doing this longer than any actual relationship he’s ever had, so Tyson has kind of gotten used to EJ’s desire to be the weirdest person in the room at any given time—and how he’s kind of into that, despite himself. 

Tyson’s not quite sure he’ll ever understand him, but he doesn’t bat an eyelash when he gets out of the shower and EJ’s got everyone in the locker room gathered around to look at something on his phone. Gabe is stood back as some of the younger guys looks, practically preening over something. 

Tyson bumps Sammy’s shoulder to get his attention. “New pictures of Biz Nasty?” He asks, adjusting his towel around his waist. 

“No,” Sammy says, shaking his head and looking up at him with those big, sleepy, classic Disney eyes. “New horse.” 

“His name’s Landeskog!” Gabe announces bombastically, waving his arms like one of those inflatables outside car dealerships that someone has stapled a picture of Brad Pitt to. 

Tyson’s grip loosens, and his towel drops around his ankles. 

The room collectively holds its breath, and the chirps all come in at once like a buffeting wave of vicious mockery. EJ slips his phone into his pocket, catches Tyson’s eye, and winks. Then he takes his towel out of his stall to lob at Tyson’s dick. 

// 

“You named a horse after Gabe?” Tyson asks, trying to mask his bitterness by shoveling bits of skirt steak into his mouth. 

EJ swirls his wine in his glass, staring over Tyson’s shoulder at their waiter, a harried college student who he was holding a grudge against for carding Tyson but not him. “The horse was hot.” He says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

‘And I’m not hot?’ Tyson wants to respond, but he knows EJ would take the opportunity to roast him and slam dunk it straight into this restaurant’s convection oven. Instead, he says: “How come everyone’s got a horse but me?” 

“Because I don’t like you.” EJ says, again, automatically. “Hey,” he calls out to the waiter. He grins at the kid, lips dark red with wine, fake teeth shining terrifyingly. “We’re going to go fuck in your bathroom. Can you get us a dessert order? Tiramisu, and the molten chocolate lava cake. A la mode?” He looks at Tyson for confirmation, who nods, rolling his eyes. “A la mode.” 

“Sorry, what was that first thing?” The waiter asks, ears bright red. He reminds Tyson instantly of Makar. 

“Tiramisu.” EJ repeats, grinning menacingly. 

“Do you think he’s gonna spit in our dessert?” Tyson asks. 

EJ snorts. “He doesn’t have the guts.” He says, reaching over to finish off Tyson’s wine. He drinks the half a glass Tyson had left, and brushes his knuckles against Tyson’s shoulder, the skin tingling where he touches. “Let’s go.” 

“Oh, was that real?” Tyson asks like he doesn’t know the answer. EJ’s fingers drag over his arm to squeeze over his bicep. 

“Do you not want to fuck in the bathroom?” EJ looks at him, looking dumb and confident. Tyson wants to kiss him, and there’s nothing stopping him, so he does. 

Tyson rolls his eyes again, leaning over to close the distance between them. “Obviously I want to fuck in the bathroom.” He says, dragging his teeth lightly over EJ’s bottom lip. “We’re talking about the horse thing later.” 

“We will not.” EJ says, with an annoying level of chipperness that Tyson’s gonna suck right out of his dick. 

//

EJ can’t stay over after dinner, saying something about having some work to take care of that he apparently can’t do on Tyson’s laptop while Tyson sucks him off from under the desk while pretending to be his assistant like normal, which is probably more proof that he’s getting old than anything else. Tyson tells him so as he goes, and EJ gives him a big, obvious hickey right above his collarbone for his trouble. 

Tyson rubs at it as he nurses a giant bottle of sangria he got at Cotsco. He’s not a rookie anymore, so he really doesn’t need anymore sex after EJ broke the stall door fucking him up against it at the restaurant, but there’s a cold spot on the other side of his bed where EJ should be cuddling him, and he really doesn’t understand why he doesn’t have a horse named after him. 

He thinks about calling Nate to cuddle, but then he remembers that Nate actually has a horse named after him too. 

So, he decides to finish off the sangria and jerk off angrily until he falls asleep, instead. 

Tyson looks for some porn to watch, but every video he’s saved has “Horse-hung” somewhere in the title, and if they’re all starring huge ripped blonde dudes anyway he might as well default to his favorite jerk-off fantasy. 

He remembers EJ telling him, drunk off his ass and handsy in the hotel suite they were sharing for Picks’ wedding. EJ and Gabe, even younger than they were when EJ and Tyson started doing their whole thing. Gabe, in his I ❤ American Boys shirt, a bratty twunk with perfect abs and a smart mouth, wrapped around EJ’s cock. 

You know, it’s probably not cool, or kosher, or holy, or whatever, for Tyson’s go-to jack off fantasy to be imagining his happily married captain sucking off the teammate he’s been hooking up with for years to settle a bet, but Gabe’s got a horse named after him, so all things considered, the moral arc of the universe could eat his ass.

Tyson presses his hand over the base of his cock, sliding tight and luxuriantly into his own hand. Simultaneously, he remembers EJ’s hand, almost huge enough to engulf all of Tyson’s cock, pressed up behind him. He remembers the soft silk of EJ’s suit pants pressed against his thighs, the heady whisper dragging over his neck. He thinks about EJ, even younger than that, probably in that stupid beanie he wore all the time, legs spread and hand threaded in Gabe’s flaxen locks as he fucked into his mouth. 

Tyson comes with a loud grunt, all over his hand. Panting, he brings it up to his mouth and licks his fingers clean. It occurs to him that EJ never told him if Gabe swallowed or not. He should ask, in the morning. 

Tyson cleans himself up and opens another of the Costco sangrias when he realizes. 

Gabe’s sucked EJ’s dick. Gabe’s sucked EJ’s dick, and he has a horse named after him. Tyson’s sucked EJ’s dick maybe hundreds of times. He should, by rights, have hundreds of horses named after him. By rights. By fucking _rights._

Tyson takes another swig from the bottle, and scrambles for his laptop. 

He needs to make a Powerpoint. 

//

They all pile into his house at once, the veritable parade of big blond idiots and dumb twinks that is his beloved Colorado Avalanche draping themselves over his couch like the interior design of his dreams while Tyson sets up the projector. 

“Hey, Brutes.” Nate says, pushing his stupid broad shoulders into Tyson’s breathing space. He’s waving his phone around and staring at Tyson with his deceptively friendly concern. “You didn’t answer my text.” 

Tyson pulls out his phone. 

_Tyson: We’re feuding_ 🔪🔪🔪

 _Nate:_ 😕 _what did dream me do_

“Why’re we feuding?” Nate asks, nonchalantly, like he isn’t a traitor.

“You betrayed me, Dogg.” Tyson hisses, eyes narrowing to pinpricks. Nate takes a step back, and frowns. 

“How much sleep did you get, bro?” Nate asks, softly, studying the bags around Tyson’s eyes. Tyson scoffs and turns back towards the projector. 

“Sit down, thickboi,” Tyson commands, waving off Nate with his hand dismissively. Nate opens his mouth like he’s about to say something, but just sighs instead and makes Sammy sit on the arm of the couch so he’ll fit next to Mikko. 

“Is he pulling out the projector?” Gabe asks, settling in the middle of the couch next to EJ, where Tyson had helpfully affixed a post-it note that said: Big Head. “Tys, is this another multi-level marketing scheme? Did you get wrapped up in a cult?” 

“Don’t smile if you’re not in a cult!” Mikko chimes in. Nate shoves him in the shoulder.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Rants.” Nate snaps. He furrows his brow. “You’re not in a cult, are you Brutes? You wouldn’t join a cult without me.” 

“Is it a sex cult?” Josty asks, looking up from where he’s laid uncomfortably over JT and Kerfy’s laps both. He waggles his eyebrows licentiously. “Is this finally an orgy?” 

“No.” Soda says, nursing a cup of tea Tyson had not offered him but he’d acquired somewhere by pure strength of will. 

“One day, buddy.” Kerf says, patting Josty comfortingly on the shoulder.

“Quiet, nines.” Tyson announcing triumphantly, the projector flickering on the wall behind him. “A ten is speaking!” 

“I’m an eleven.” EJ pipes in. Tyson doesn’t argue with him. 

Tyson sucks in a breath between his teeth, eyes shining in the light of the projector. “I’ve prepared a presentation I think you’ll all be interested in.”

The projector flickers on all the way, and the image resolves. 

“Five Reasons to Name Your Horse After Me, by Tyson Greig Barrie, Esq.”

Nobody says anything, for a moment. 

“You made that yourself, huh?” Gabe says, diplomatically. Tyson looks up at the slide, his headshot photoshopped over a little girl holding a majestic white spottled horse, so expertly done you couldn’t even tell it was a little girl, or the image had used to say ‘Eight Reasons to Buy Your Child a Horse.’ Tyson beams, proud of himself. 

“Esquire?” Kerf squawks, nerdily. “You’re not a lawyer.” 

Tyson sniffs. “It’s short for equestrian, duh.” 

Nemo starts pushing himself up by his hands, almost knocking Gravy over as he does so. “Well, I’m leaving.” 

EJ clears his throat, and Big Z stops him with a hand on his shoulder. “No, we’re all staying.” EJ says, smiling toothily and folding his arms over his legs like Mark Cuban does on Shark Tank. “Why should I name a horse after you, Barrie?” 

“I’m glad you asked.” Tyson says, steeling his gaze on EJ. “I’m a prime candidate for horse naming, the best candidate even, especially for you. T-Legend, T-Beauty, the possibilities are endless. What do you think of when you think of horses?” He asks the group, and immediately regrets it. 

“Huge.” Josty chimes in first, followed quickly by Mikko’s “Scary.” 

“Are you scared of horses, Meeks?” Nate asks, and Mikko pales at Big Z’s delighted face.

“Unicorn.” Nemo says, thoughtfully, which saves Mikko as Big Z lights up. 

“Yes, unicorn!” He agrees bombastically, about to launch into some story about his daughter that would undoubtedly precious and adorable, but not the point of this exercise. 

“Wrong, idiots.” Tyson quickly swipes in, moving to the next slide. “Horses are strong and fast, just like me.” He jabs at his laser pointer, running it over the record graphics and JML’s beautiful, stricken face. “I’m strong, fast, and great at hockey.” 

EJ snorts. 

“Why is that horse coming out of the water?” JT asks. 

“It’s a seahorse.” Kerf replies, and it’s only that Josty is on top of them that stops Compher from launching himself at him. 

“I don’t think your points records really translate to horses.” Nitro says unhelpfully. 

“I have more points than a horse ever could.” Tyson shoots back, shining his laser pointer in Nieto’s eyes. 

Sammy murmurs thoughtfully. “Maybe not. What if horses could skate?” 

Mikko gasps, terrified. 

“If horses could skate I’d be better!” Tyson snaps hurriedly. He’s beginning to regret inviting the rest of the team for this. He runs a hand through his curls, flicking his tongue over his teeth. “Horses aren’t only fast and strong.” He says, getting back into presentation mode. “They’ve also got great legs, beautiful flanks, dynamite gams.” 

This one Tyson knew was a slam dunk. The media people had managed to get some great shots of his legs and thighs, and none of these freaking morons could deny the fact that they were hot. EJ in particular is staring up at the picture of Tyson taping his stick, shorts tight against his thigh. 

“Mikko’s thigh is as big as your head.” Nate notes dryly. “Maybe he should have a horse named after him.” 

“Quiet, traitor.” Tyson hisses at him. Nate flips him off. 

Josty clambers over JT’s lap, obviously trying to put his head on Mikko’s thigh, and Sammy throws a pillow at him. 

“Your legs are fine.” EJ says, and Tyson’ll take it. 

“Third, I have a sparkling personality, and people compare me to horses all the time. Just check out these Tyson Testimonials.” Tyson advances to the next slide, and Gabe and Nate both perk up. 

“’Tyson Barrie is yet another _horse_ in the Avs deep _stable_ of offensive-minded defensemen.” Tyson quotes, in his best professional voice, which sounds a little like Australian Siri. “And that’s from Mile High Hockey. Barrie is a—’” Tyson’s eyes widen, and he stops. “Moving on to the next one—” 

EJ’s eyes light up. “Sorry does that say diminutive?” He asks, voice giddy with glee. “Diminutive? That does say diminutive right? That says ‘Barrie is a diminutive—’” EJ is reveling in it, staring straight at Tyson as he turns a bright, unattractive tomato red. EJ licks the space between his teeth monstrously. EJ laughs himself quiet. “God you really are so small.” EJ says, looking up at him with something like fondness in his eyes. Frankly, it’s a little disgusting, and Tyson has to take a moment to comport himself properly. 

“’Tyson is a horse out there on the ice.’” Nate reads, deadpan. “If I’m a traitor, why are you using my testimony?” 

“That’s not how a citation works.” Kerf notes at the same time. Tyson looks at them both and weighs the pros and cons of throwing his laser pointer at them. 

“Even our beloved captain, says, ‘He’s a stallion, what can you say, you guys know--” Tyson starts, smoothing his shirt to puff his chest out. 

“I didn’t say that.” Gabe cuts in. “You said that, about me.” 

“It was said by one of us, that’s good enough.” “It was on camera!” Gabe protests. 

“I’ve never seen it.” Tyson snaps back, swiveling on one heel to turn to look EJ in the eye. 

“Finally, and I think this is the most compelling reason: everyone else already has a horse.” 

Tyson arms his laser pointer, zooming over the picture of Nate in his royal baby costume. “Macwinnon?” Tyson announces dramatically. “Doesn’t look like a winner to me.” 

“Dude.” Nate says. Mikko nudges his shoulder pityingly. 

“Landeskog?” Tyson points out Landy’s screaming, bumbling face. “Not very captainly here, huh?” 

“I can’t believe you found an unflattering picture of Gabe.” JT marvels. 

“Hey was that when you fell on me?” Mikko asks Gabe from across the couch. 

“Bourque? Really???” Tyson asks, and EJ just shrugs. 

Tyson reaches the last one, the picture of Biz with the chopsticks up his nose, and scowls.

“Biz Nasty?” Tyson narrows his eyes, walking over to poke EJ in the chest. EJ raises an eyebrow at him defiantly. “You don’t even know him.” Tyson sneers venomously.

“You don’t know that.” EJ says, sticking his tongue out between the gap in his teeth. “I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I knew it!” Tyson exclaims, throwing the laser pointer up in the air as he does. The button clicks as Gravy tries to catch it, long awkward limbs flailing skittishly in the air. 

Tyson jabs his finger into EJ’s chest furiously, pushing him back down over the couch as he advances on him. “I suck your dick more often and better than any of these guys ever could, and they all have horses?” 

“What the fuck dude?” Nate says, staring at the picture of himself blowing a bubble. Tyson swivels on his heel to turn on him. 

“And you! I can’t believe you’d do this to me Dogg!” Tyson seethes, staring up furiously at Nate, who looks at him like he’s an idiot. “I thought you were my best friend!” 

“I am your best friend, dumbass!” Nate yells, getting up bodily to press at Tyson with his huge boxy shoulders. 

“Well, a best friend would tell another best friend if they blew the guy they’ve been seeing for years!” Tyson yells back, trying to push at the broad expanse of Nate but not budging him an inch. “I would’ve been cool!” 

“A best friend would tell another best friend, and I didn’t tell you because I’ve never done it!” 

Tyson scoffs, turning back towards EJ. “Nate, I understand. Gabe, I definitely understand. Hell, even Biz. But Bourquey? No offense, Borquey, but--” 

He looks around the room, and some of the other guys are whispering, but Bourque is nowhere to be found. “Oh shit, I forgot to invite Bourque.” Tyson mutters. 

“You didn’t even bother to get another picture for this slide.” Nitro points out. “That’s kind of a dick move.” 

“Well, blowing my boyfriend is a dick move!” Tyson snaps, and then he freezes. EJ’s eyes widen from where he’d been lightly amused at everything happening thus far. “I mean--” 

“You’ve never called me that before. I thought you just didn’t want the label.” EJ notes, softly, and then he shakes his head, getting up to wrap an arm around Tyson, pressing their foreheads together. “I’ve never hooked up with any of these guys, Tys. I wouldn’t do that to you.” 

“You hooked up with Gabe.” Tyson says, faintly. Gabe pales from where he’d been suspiciously quiet. “You told me. With the bet.” 

“That was before you, idiot.” EJ says, leaning over to press a soft kiss over the mark he’d left last night. Tyson melts into his touch, the weight of how tired he is seeping into his bones.

“What?” Josty and JT say at the same time, equal amounts surprised and delighted between the two of them. 

“Okay, time to go.” Gabe announces in his most captainly voice, and standing up abruptly. He starts herding the rest of the team out, pulling up Josty and JT by the scruffs of their shirts and letting Kerf get himself up. Soda sets his teacup down on the side table. Tyson didn’t even know he owned a teacup. 

“Dogg?” Tyson calls out, before Nate follows the rest of them. Nate looks up at him and crosses his arms. “Sorry for calling you a traitor and a bad best friend.” 

Nate snorts at him and smiles. “Dream you has done a lot worse.” He levels a look at EJ. “Take care of him, okay?” It’s more of a demand than a question. 

Then, it’s just him and EJ, alone. 

“It was an all right presentation,” EJ says, slowly pressing kisses into Tyson’s curls. He lets Tyson lean against him. “I might’ve named a horse after you if you didn’t already have one. Well, two.” 

Tyson looks up at him, eyes wide and heady. “What?”

EJ rolls his eyes at him, running a hand up his jaw to guide him into a kiss, warm and heavy, just like he likes it. “Splashy Kisses.” EJ reminds him, darting his tongue between the gap of his teeth to trace over the seam of Tyson’s lips. “That one was always yours.”

Tyson moans against EJ, relaxes against the solid plane of his chest. “And the other one?” He asks. 

“God, you’re so dumb and dramatic. I had this whole plan and you ruined it with your fucking powerpoints.” EJ gripes, fond as anything. God, he’s mean. He’s mean and weird and uncommunicative and the biggest asshole Tyson knows, and Tyson is in love with him. He pulls something out of his pocket, a scroll of fancy certificate paper, and he unrolls it for Tyson to see. 

It’s a deed for a foal from what Tyson can see, not registered as a racehorse but as a riding horse. 

Will You Barrie Me, is its name. 

“Is this--” Tyson starts, heart galloping in his chest, running a whole derby. “Is this real? I thought you didn’t like me.” 

“Fuck no.” EJ snorts. Then, he pulls a ring out of his pocket and throws it in Tyson’s face. “I fucking love you, idiot.” He says, and Tyson almost knocks him over trying to kiss him. 

//

“Hey,” Tyson whispers with EJ halfway inside him. He slides down luxuriantly slowly, reveling in every curse it draws from EJ. He holds one hand on EJ’s chest to keep himself stable, and the other on headboard, his engagement ring glinting against the dark wood. “Can you still name a horse T-Legend? Or T-Beauty?” 

“You’re asking me that now?” EJ chokes, as Tyson eases himself down to press flush against EJ’s hips. 

“When else am I gonna ask?” Tyson says cheekily, feeling drunk off the fullness. He bucks his hips down to settle himself, taking his time as he does.

“I really hate you.” EJ murmurs, miserably. Tyson laughs. He drags his hand up EJ’s chest, and pulls his chin up to kiss him. 

“Love you too, asshole.” He responds, and EJ groans. 

He gets both T-Legend and T-Beauty, and Gabe and Nate and Biz and all the rest can suck that.

**Author's Note:**

> [here's the link to tyson's powerpoint for anyone who wants to see it all together](https://drive.google.com/file/d/1B4oKEZJ2pHcX6NZggY9TjIyVhMU40DgR/view?usp=sharing%20rel=)
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> peace, check me out on [tumblr.](https://samgirard.tumblr.com)


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